


By Hook or By Crook

by meet_the_girl_who_can



Category: The Originals (TV), The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Blood and Injury, Caroline Forbes Goes to New Orleans, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Forced Cohabitation, Forced Proximity, Mild Language, Sharing a Bed, THERE WAS ONLY ONE BED, minor but tagging just in case
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-20
Updated: 2020-03-20
Packaged: 2021-02-23 00:47:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23236342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meet_the_girl_who_can/pseuds/meet_the_girl_who_can
Summary: Some kind of spell has bound Caroline to the one person she was trying to avoid. Unable to move away from Klaus for more than two feet, Caroline ends up travelling with him to New Orleans in search of a fast solution. But being in such enforced proximity can lead to all sorts of confusion (and confessions).
Relationships: Caroline Forbes/Klaus Mikaelson
Comments: 15
Kudos: 140





	By Hook or By Crook

“Well,” Caroline observed, for want of nothing better than to break the awkward silence as they stared at Klaus’ bed which lay in front of them, waiting for the first instance of disturbance after its owner’s long absence, “ _I’m_ not taking the floor”

It worked, the way Caroline’s brutal, fearless honesty when she ought to be more tactful towards Klaus always did. He laughed, that crooked smile curling his plush lips. “I hate to tell you this sweetheart, but chivalry _is_ actually dead”

Caroline smiles in return, and that’s the elephant in the room isn’t it, that this situation between them, when it’s just them, isn’t actually all that bad. It’s other people who are the problem. Other people make them remember, who they are, who they’re supposed to be. The Original Hybrid and the baby vampire. Still, what else is new? Well, besides the fact that they can’t be more than three feet from the other without intense physical pain. Hence the reason they were standing in Klaus’ bedroom, jetlagged and tense and fucked the hell off.

When this interesting new condition had made itself known, Klaus had refused to stay in Mystic Falls with the incompetence of her friends, preferring the home advantage. The fact that someone had gotten round his paranoid defence mechanisms in this new and stupid way had rattled him all the way back to New Orleans and the fact that Caroline had had to sit next to _that_ through the rental cars, airport and flight nearly had her ripping his throat out just for the five seconds of blissful silence it would take him to grow new vocal cords.

So they had ignored the wide eyes of Elijah, the loud rhetoric of Rebekah and the not-so-silent snickering of Kol for the – relative – solitude of Klaus’ bedroom.

“We could pull the sofa closer?” Caroline asks jerking a thumb at the cushy mahogany coloured chesterfield over by the far wall, injecting as much optimism into the suggestion as possible.

“We could just share the bed Caroline.” Klaus retorts bluntly, and looking out of the corner of her eye, the tiniest bit…hurt. “I won’t bite”

“I’ve heard that before” Caroline snaps without thinking, immediately cursing her inability to keep her thoughts to herself when she’s around him. She’d be worried there was a truth component woven into this new spell they must be under, because what the hell else could it be? If not for the fact that she has never really been able to lie to Klaus anyway. Fuck’s sake.

There’s the quickest of gusts by her cheek and then she’s confronted by a pair of dark blue eyes glaring straight at her, stormy with rage. “ ** _What else do you want me to do?!”_**

And that’s exactly the problem, because Caroline knows precisely what she wants Klaus to fucking do. Fucking being the operative word. It’s why she’d insisted he leave Mystic Falls and never come back, last time. Because she’d known, without extracting that promise, she wouldn’t be able to resist if he had come back. And he had, although in fairness, she’d learned he was back in town from Enzo, having not seen her himself. So he’d kept his promise and walked away from _her._ Until this magical magnetism had kicked in and dragged them towards each other, not relenting until she was standing in front of him on his porch.

Remembering the breathing exercises that Stefan taught her when she first turned, what feels like a lifetime ago, Caroline inhales deeply. _Mistake._

Because this is Klaus’ bedroom, and she’s never been here, or in his bedroom in Mystic Falls. She’s been to his house plenty, but as with every house, the main rooms scents are mitigated by food, perfumes, dust, diluted by the many people who pass through the halls, like the others, Klaus’ staff and hybrids. No, here, here is so much worse because it has that scent that is purely Klaus; woodsmoke and paint and something musky she can’t name. Maybe his cologne. _Will his scent change in a hundred or so years when the production stops?_ She wonders absently, before she can catch the fact that she’s just thought about whether she’ll still be able to recognise Klaus’ scent in a century.

And the bed will be worse of all, a large island of snowy white sheets with a dull brown duvet, and that’s another reason for Caroline’s caginess because how is she expected to _cope_? How is she expected to maintain that distance of that time in the woods being a **one time thing, a dual confession,** when she and Klaus will have to share a bed and breakfast and a life essentially, for as long as it takes to break this new, more tangible, self-hostile aspect of their connection?

Caroline immediately shuts off her oxygen, eyes screwed shut and digs her nails into her palms so hard they become wet with blood.

There’s a sharp inhalation at the new aroma drifting from between her clenched fists, “ _Caroline_ ”

She isn’t sure what to expect, but it isn’t the sensation of Klaus’ own palms coming up to gently cradle her hands in his. “Oh love, I’m sorry. We’ll figure something out. Come here let’s get you cleaned up ” he starts leading her across the room, in a wide arc – Caroline keeps her eyes closed, because if her eyes are closed she can pretend it’s not happening – before she feels something hit the back of her legs. Eyes flying open its to see Klaus manoeuvering her to sit on the sofa, a damp washcloth in one hand, her own bloodied right hand in his left.

“Here, sit and let me see” he murmurs, anger having evaporated at her desperation. Caroline watches in fascination as Klaus perches on the coffee table and unfurls her fingers, before methodically dabbing the blood from her hands. The cropped golden curls of his head are bent, working so gently she can barely feel anything. What is it, that brings out this tenderness in him, at her own fear and idiocy and frustration?

Once he’s satisfied that she’s healed and the skin is whole and clean, he leans back, lobbing the washcloth at the laundry basket in the corner. “Now. I probably should start asking this, given our enforced proximity for the foreseeable. What do you want to do, sweetheart?”

Caroline sighs. The fight’s gone out of both of them, there’ll be no answers tonight anyway. And all she really, really wants is – “A nice hot bath”

Klaus laughs at the simplicity of it, a deep rumble from beneath his grey Henley. “I think I can accommodate that. Everything you need is in the ensuite. Have at it, sweetheart” His choice of wording jolts a memory in Caroline, of the last time he’d said that to her and she can’t help it, she flushes. If he notices he doesn’t say anything, just watches as Caroline gets up and shuffles over to the bathroom. “There’s towels and everything you could need hopefully” he tells her, watching from the doorway.

The colour scheme pretty much matches his bedroom; grey tiles and white sink, toilet, a separate shower and a massive porcelain claw-foot bathtub. It’s probably original to the house, he did tell her, they’d built the city up over what 200 years. They’d lived somewhere else originally, before Klaus had finally found an appropriate location for the Mikaelson’s to have their own, true family home. Gathering a towel, Caroline makes it about halfway across the floor to the tub when –“Ahhh!” she screeches in pain and doubles over at the sudden, agonising electric shock that jolts through every fibre of her body. “Caroline!” Klaus’ yell tells her exactly what’s happened, she’s crossed out of their allowed comfort zone without realising.

“Fuck!” she cries, hurling the towel to the floor, scuttling a retreat until her back hit the doorframe, any pain lost to the spasms aching through her joints.

“Well,” Klaus huffs, catching his breath, “There goes my plan of sitting outside the door. I should have invested in a smaller bathroom” his tone’s light, evidentially trying to keep things calm but Caroline’s eyes sting with the onset of tears. Can’t she have one normal thing?

“Stupid fucking -!” she curses up at the ceiling, her anger falling short at the anonymity of their enemies in this.

“Well, that’s it. You’ll have to sit with your back turned” she announces firmly, finding a shred of calm from somewhere. She did not learn to co-ordinate school, six different committees, pageant rehearsal, cheerleading practise, a social life, family time, life and death, college applications and vampirism to crack under this. This was nothing. Compared to Mystic Falls, this was small potatoes.

“O-kay” Klaus agrees, surprise robbing him of his argument. Huh. Maybe Chivalry is dead after all.

Everything subsides after that into something alarmingly domestic. Klaus fetches a cushion and his sketchbooks at her insistence because she doesn’t want him bored and uncomfortable for an hour. (‘I’ve endured worse than a cold tile floor, Caroline.’, ‘Well, I’m not adding it to the list’). Her request for bubble bath is met with a derisive snort until she glares at him, and he offers to send someone to fetch it. At a further glare for his trivial treatment of compulsion and forced loyalty, Klaus amends that it can be added to the household grocery list and she really ought to compile a list of anything else she needs for the duration and they can order it.

There’s a small disturbance just as Caroline is turning off the tap, in the form of a brunette in a dark dress banging on the bedroom door, a tower of books floating alongside her.

“Thank you Davina” Klaus catches the books and gives nothing but a perfunctory introduction before the door is closed and they’re alone once more.

“Who was that?” Caroline probes, intrigued by the odd look and friendly smile the girl had given her.

“Hmm?” Klaus looks up from where he’s putting down the books, “Oh Davina. She’s Kol’s wife”

“KOL’S WIFE” Caroline screeches, incredulous. HE HADN’T MENTIONED THAT, LIKE EVER. KOL. KOL HAS A WIFE. A WIFE. A LIVING WIFE. A WITCH. Well, that made sense given the way he always made eyes at Bonnie.

“Yes” Klaus barked a laugh, head thrown back at Caroline’s unabashed honesty “Believe it or not, she’s actually been very good for him. Brings out his humanity. He’s far more the mischievous, scholarly person he was as a human than the blood crazed demon of your friends’ acquaintance. And she’s a firecracker, herself” Klaus admits, not caring for his frankness. If Kol takes offence, there’s nothing overly valuable of Klaus’ on site for him to destroy.

Something occurs to Caroline as she listens to his explanation though, because a smile blooms on those plump, pink lips of hers and she tucks a curl behind her ear, almost shyly. It’s adorable and the kind of smile he’d catch between his teeth if she’d let him “Something about pure hearts and the allure to darkness?”

“Yes,” Klaus agrees warmly, eyes kindling that she was reminded of that particular conversation, that she no longer seems averse to it, “Something like that”

They stand in silence once more, this time watching each other, until Klaus remembers the thundering of the water into the tub and jumps into action, leading the way into the bathroom to shut off the taps.

With the bath drawn, Klaus ensconces himself on his cushions, back resting against the tub and begins to sketch while Caroline relaxes. Silence reigns for about ten minutes, broken only by the movement of Caroline’s all too temptingly naked body in the water and Klaus’ resolute attention to his drawing. It’s why he’d brought it in here, along with his phone; art and the running of his empire the only things capable of distracting him sufficiently.

“Is that me?” Caroline’s voice, right in his ear makes Klaus jump, to his eternal shame. Not that she’s ever once, in all the time he’s known her, done anything he expects. And unlike everyone else he’s met, he finds he loves that about her. She is a fascination, an enigma of blonde curls and bubbles, hiding a steel spine.

Shit.

Because she’s right. It is. He has nothing to be ashamed of, it’s not as if he’s imagined her naked in the bath – he’s staying as far from reality as possible in his imagining of her, in a valiant attempt to stay sane. In his sketch, although it’s a memory from this afternoon, it’s already a favourite image, one he’s craved visualisation since he left her a voicemail on the corner of Bourbon Street. It’s Caroline, her back to the viewer, staring out over the balcony of his room onto the city below.

“Yes. Forgive me, love. I should have asked your permission” he moves to rip the page out, but a soft hand on his shoulder stops him.

“No, please. I don’t mind. I like your art. I like how you see me” she confesses and arm snakes past his head, pointing at the confident stance of the Caroline on the page. “Oh, crap, sorry!” she apologises as a drop of water trickles down her arm and lands on the paper. The arm withdraws and with it the conversation.

Then, “What do you do?”

Klaus nearly turns round, to catch her eye with a question of his own about her meaning, but remembers not to just in time. The tub’s so deep it’s not like he’d see anything from this proximity but that’s not the point.

“Beg pardon love?”

“I mean, running your empire, when you’re not trying to take over the world? How does ‘the most powerful being in the world’ she sticks her arms out either side of his head so he doesn’t miss the air quotes, “spend his time?”

“Travelling, investing, managing my lands and assets worldwide, governing the vampires and werewolves of New Orleans. Eternity’s only fruitful if you plan for it, darling, it’s why you’ll do so brilliantly” he says it casually, since it’s merely a statement of fact but there’s silence once more from the tub.

“Oh. Do you really think so?” Her voice is suddenly so small, still asking for confirmation of a compliment freely given, and he thinks uncharitably how an extended spell away from that accursed small town, with its small town thinking and it’s small town lives, will do Caroline the power of good. He’d meant that too, not just that Mystic Falls wouldn’t be enough for Caroline, but that Caroline was too much for it. She shouldn’t be wasted there, when she could have the world, however she wanted it. He just needs her to want it, and strangely enough, Klaus doesn’t want that for him, but for her, for Caroline herself and it’s a feeling still so novel that it continues to surprise him, how unselfish he is with her. Kindness, charity, pity. All for her.

“Of course I do”

“Thanks”

They lapse into silence. He wonders if her bath water’s getting cold yet. He wonders why someone would do this, who would do this, string them together like this. Either it’s to get to him, through her, or to eliminate them both. Until he gets a look at Davina’s books, it’s better not to fester in company. And then, what the hell, he ruins everything else he touches, might as well get this over with too – “You haven’t asked me if I’m responsible yet.” 

“Hey” There’s a tap on the side of his cheek, and he looks up to see Caroline’s face leaning into his, hair escaping from the coil on the top of her head, showing off the elegant curve of her neck, those oceanic eyes absorbing every inch of his expression as she speaks. Close enough to kiss. “You’re not. I know you wouldn’t.”

“How?”

“Because in all your…encouragements, you’ve made it clear you wanted me to choose you. In a year, or a century, right? You walked away because I asked you too. Why would I think that had changed? It’s not like I don’t trust you”

His eyes widen at her own, casual admission, like she was commenting on the colour of the bathroom tiles. Her confidence in him, when she has none in herself.

Will she ever cease to amaze him? Apparently not. Her hands wind themselves through his hair, soothingly stroking the hair from his forehead. It might be a blessing or a curse, this spell, the way it’s compelling them to be honest. That she actively seeks to touch him. Klaus tilts his head back, against the rim of the tub, luxuriating in the sensation. He can’t remember the last time someone did this for him. His mother, maybe, as a boy. God, a thousand and so years, and no-one’s ever soothed him. He wouldn’t mind domesticity, if it feels like this.

“I’m glad it was you” her fingers continue to card through his hair and Klaus’ eyes shutter, despite the fact that the comment alights a thousand questions, that he wants to dissect every nuance of her meaning, of the fact that she’s said it all, neither of them are going anywhere. And this is…nice. Soft. Quiet.

He only gets moments like this with Caroline.

“Who better to irritate the hell out of for eternity?” There it is, and the tail end of her comment tugs at the corner of his own mouth, as he hears the smile in her voice. As relaxed as he is in the heavy steam, the quiet of the house overall with the staff gone and his family either out or quietly concluding their own evening and the gentle caresses of the woman he loves, she wouldn’t be that woman if she didn’t antagonise the shit out of him so artful and casual…and fun.

“Yeah?”

“Yes” and this time it’s definite, her palm stroking down his jaw for a moment. She’s right, this would be hellish if it was some stranger, he’d probably just have killed them. But Caroline, Caroline seems made for pleasure. Her hands still, and then withdraw.

“Okay, yeah, sorry, this water’s going seriously freaking cold now”

Klaus opens his eyes and takes a deep breath, turning away again. Even despite the immortality, time marches on around them in fucking irritating series of interruptions.

(But at least she only stopped because of that, and nothing else)

Also, Klaus privately thanks whichever God there really is, old or new, that no-one except Caroline can see him right now, because then the rest of the world would know that a few hours in her unrestricted company has him going soft as hell.

Getting up and ignoring the ache in his bones at having stayed in one position for too long, Klaus collects his accoutrements and retreats to the bedroom to change, and wait for Caroline.

She emerges shortly after, pink and perfumed, shy once again, in a pale pink and white striped camisole and pajama shorts. He’s trades his jeans and Henley for a loose grey t-shirt and dark blue pajama pants, lying ontop of the covers of his bed, having used the time to built a wall of pillows between his side and the usually vacant one.

Upon seeing her, he closes the book of Davina’s he’s been scouring and sits up, reaching for the stiff bourbon he’d set aside for her. “It occurred to me that I’ve been a particularly poor host”

Caroline crosses the room, but halts at the sight of the pillows. “Christ how many do you have in here? I think we’ll be fine without these. I do trust you, you know. Unless you starfish during the night because I will kick you” her outstretched hand morphs into a jabbing finger of accusation.

“Unless I what?” He’d understood most of that sentence.

“Starfish. Y’know –“ she huffs, and then of all things, takes a running jump bellowing “STARFISH” to land splay limbed on the bed laughing her head off, awkwardness gone.

“D’you know, there’s some things across the years that culturally I’ve never understood. Like some of the shit the Bright Young Things got up to, that really was going out on a limb for the sake of it” he mutters conversationally. Caroline ignores him in favour of rearranging the pillows, chucking half on the floor and sitting up to snatch her own glass away with greedy, grateful fingers.

“Stick with me, I’m down with the kids”

Oh, Christ.

“Drink your bourbon and go to sleep sweetheart” he chides affectionately.

“Yes, **Dad”** Caroline shoots back, sticking her tongue out at him. But she does as she’s told, sliding under the duvet, plugging her phone into charger and letting him crack on with his reading while she does something on her phone.

“I’m going to sleep now” she murmurs quietly, putting the phone on the night stand and sliding down the pillows until she’s vertical beside him.

He turns, watching how she’s lying respectfully to the far end of her side, but turned towards him. “Okay sweetheart.” He thinks for a moment, since he’s never really shared a bed with anyone like this. “D’you need the light off?” It’s not like he can’t see in the dark, so reading without the light isn’t a problem, really.

“Nah, you’re okay. Night Klaus”

“Goodnight, Caroline.”

He turns back to his reading, but his heart is no longer in it, too tempted by the fascinating sight of Caroline unguarded by his side. Eventually, he hears her breathing even out and sneaks a peek. She is beautiful in her sleep, as she always is, but this is a new aspect of her beauty he has never had the privilege of. Her blonde hair is falling her face, entire body relaxed, face eternally lovely, like Sleeping Beauty in her tower.

Laying aside his book, Klaus rolls onto his side and turns off the light, listening to the gentle pace of Caroline’s breathing until sleep claims him.


End file.
